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Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Happy Birthday to my Mother!

Happy Birthday Mom!

I love you!

I lost my mother back in 2005. I still love her more than I can describe. I know, if she were still here, I'd be doing this for her. So, what's to stop me now? She may not be here physically, but she is still with me and around me in every thing I do, everything I see and even in my laugh. I see her in my children, my brothers, my father and even in my husband. She was a very special lady.

I could write a huge piece about my mother and might do that someday, but today I am just going to celebrate her with a Happy Birthday, Mom and probably a cake that I will share with the whole family (as we've done every year since her death.)

Not sure those who are above us in Heaven take the time to read blogs, but I do believe they have an understanding of how they are missed.

My father wrote her a poem that I will share with you.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

I love you!

PREFACE

On March 17th
of this year, 2005, our family got the devastating news that my wife Edy had
lung cancer.According to the
doctors, the situation was of a terminal nature and she was given only nine
months to live.Their prognosis
was fairly accurate and she passed away on the 20th of November.

I watched her get
progressively worse day after day but the children and I tried to keep her
hopes of survival up by avoiding the assumption of death.One must maintain hope and a positive
attitude along with treatment, if one is to survive.

There comes a time
when it becomes obvious that the chance of a cure or long-term survival is
essentially gone.Although the
family and I had reached that conclusion, she continued to have faith and
fight.That situation made it
difficult to tell her goodbye and of our deep love for her.It was at that point that I decided to
try to tell her how I felt by writing her a story.

I told her of my
intention and thought I might read it to her before the end came.It didn’t work out that way.She passed away before I could finish
and she was in a semi-conscious state during that last week of her life so I
missed the opportunity to say a final goodbye.

The story that
follows is my way of answering a question that Edy put to me a couple of times
in the thirty-eight years we were together.When we were about to be married, she asked me if I minded
being married by a Lutheran pastor.I told her that it would be fine and she then asked me, “What do you
believe?”

Several years later,
we decided to make out a will to safe-guard our children in the case of our
deaths.During the discussion she
asked me again what I believed as to religion and death.

I never answered her
questions, mainly because I was not sure then nor am I all that sure now, and I
thought it might be a good time to give her an answer in those final days of
her life.

Having said all of
the above, Edy’s story follows:

I BELIEVE

The full moon’s
bright light cast sharp shadows in the sacred circle of stones.This early in the spring of the year
the nights were cool and the light breeze sucked away what little warmth the
hooded cape provided.He followed
in the footsteps of the old priest, with each step getting harder to take, as
he approached the lone individual standing in the center of the Druid circle.

The priest leads him
through old Druid stones

As those about him some
chant intones

Dread’s cold hand slowed
his stride

For on this night in
this cold dark place

For the first time he’d
come face to face

With one to be his bride

She stood
silhouetted by a full moon, her dark hair stirring in the light breeze.The torchlight brought her face into
view, strong features and straight lines softened by the warm colors of the
fire.The young man’s breath
caught in his throat.This was no
great beauty that he faced, but rather a simple peasant girl.Still, to him, all other women ceased
to matter.She spoke.She smiled.He loved.

Silhouette carved by a
full moon bright

Strong features soft
from the warm torchlight

The young man caught his
breath

He stood before her his
heart ungloved

His soul soared upward.
She smiled. He loved

Forever his ‘til death

He held her hand as
she lay dying and he thought back to that first time he saw her many years
before.He had known from that
first night that she was to be his forever.How short a time forever turned out to be.As her breathing stilled and her face
softened from the lack of pain and life, his world turned gray and a light went
out in his eyes.

The old man sat there
softly crying

He held her hand as she
lay dying

Forever he would grieve

As breathing stilled and
Death took her soul

The light of his life
Death also stole

Something whispers Believe

—Death is but a River—

His nose hurt and he could taste the blood as it flowed across his
lips.The big boy sat astride his
chest pinning his arms down with his knees.Another blow was being aimed at his swollen nose when a
small hand reached in and grabbed a handful of hair on the big boy’s head.

With a bloody nose and a
swollen eye

But the big boy couldn’t
make him cry

Such was his stubborn
pride

A voice irate “Let him
up, you lout”

A small hand waves a big
stick about

She could not be denied

The boys all scattered leaving him lying there with a dirty face and
a bloody nose.He was looking up
at a mop of curly red hair and freckles on a girl no bigger than a minute.

Red hair, freckles, and
eyes a deep blue

A curious face that
smiled at you

That face a pure delight

Her smile seemed to open
up a door

That said they had met
sometime before

On some long distant
night

As he looked into her startling blue eyes, all the pain went
away.All of a sudden, everything
was all right.In his short twelve
years he had never seen anyone prettier.He felt like he had known her forever.

“You better learn how to fight,” she scolded

Her bright blue eyes
took his pain away

Twas like going home to
yesterday

Past visions dimly seen

“Learn to fight,
whatever else you do”

He nodded.“Someday I’ll fight for you”

A future unclear seen

For seven fine and
full years the two were inseparable.Finally, families had agreed and, with dowry offered and paid, the two
were married.The young man had
grown to good size and was a respected and valued fighting man of Waterford’s
town guard.

At nineteen years with a
brand new wife

He answered the call of
his Guard’s fife

Strong her words as he
departs

“Fight for our people
and fight for me”

Pinned to his Jerkin for
all to see

Her favor guards his
heart

In that year of 1169 a small force under
Raymond le Gros landed at Baginbun, near Bannow, and immediately routed a
strong army of Irishmen and Norsemen from Waterford, inspiring the couplet:

"At the creek of
Baginbun,

Ireland was lost and
won."

He lay on the field of battle before
Waterford.“Fight for our
people.Fight for me”, she had
said.Now he would die for
her.As his vision dimmed, his
only regret was that he would never see her again.He whispers her name and the Irish monk beside him says,
“Believe”.

He lay cold before the
town’s main gate

Quiet, a hooded monk
sits and waits

As his life slips away

His vision dims and he
calls her name

He breathes, “I’ll never
see her again”

The monk begins to pray

The monk bends close to
the young man’s ear

“Be at peace my friend.
There is naught to fear

You have no need to
grieve”

The monk whispers,
“There is no never

Remember, death is just
a river

You simply must Believe”

As
he slips into the lonely dark he seems to see a dark haired woman in a circle
of stone and the smile of a redheaded lass.A look of content and he was gone.

As the young man bleeds
away life’s spark

And he slips into the
lonely dark

One last thing caught
his eye

He clearly sees with his
final breath

Something that warms the
cold sting of death

Then contented, he died

A vision seen as through
darkened glass

The sweet smile of a
redheaded lass

And someone stood behind

Flickering torchlight
with hair wind-blown

A dark haired woman,
circle of stone

Somehow the two entwined

And dimly seen, a far
distant shore

Where a lady waits with
open door

She beckons from afar

‘It’s time to come home’
she seems to say

‘If you believe, you
will find your way

Led by a sailor’s star’

—On the River flows—

On the river of time the years and generations glide past.There one can see a collage of scenes
that are years apart and seemingly unrelated.

She sits and waits on her cliff facing the sea for her man to come
home his ship long overdue from its trip to the Americas.For many long years she waited; her
love she’d not let go.

She sat alone on her bench each evening wrapped in her woolen shawl,
as the sun dropped into the sea.Waiting, forever waiting, searching for the star that would guide her
man home.The sound of the
crashing surf and the breeze from the sea seems to whisper ‘Believe’

They found her there one morning, her twenty-three year vigil over,
her waiting at an end.

I remember telling my mother, when I was but age ten, that I would
not marry until I was thirty years old.I can still recall my solid conviction that this was true.I didn’t know then why I was so sure of
that statement.It was not until
many years later that I began to think that I might know the answer as to the
why of such a claim.

Through grade school, high school and several years after, I was not
one to be comfortable around women.It was not that I was shy but rather I couldn’t bring myself to
participate in the social games the young played.It all seemed so shallow.It was as though I was looking for something or waiting for
something to happen.

Twenty-seven years and
still alone

Where his life was
headed, still unknown

No goal for which to aim

With too much to drink,
all night café

Occurred that which took
his gloom away

Edy the lady’s name

She took his order her
gaze direct

Made something inside
his mind connect

Vision briefly perceived

Darkhaired woman,
redheaded lass

And other women from
time long past

A distant voice Believe

So
there is the story I said I would write for you.I have to apologize for the fact that I cannot find an
ending. The story remains
unfinished and I suspect that this is as it should be. You asked me once and
twice before just what did I believe.I tell you now, though you are not here to hear,

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